


Devotion

by Azurite9925



Series: Devotion [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Flower Garlands, Fluff, Hinduism themes, King Khalid, Mughal Era India Romanticism Galore, Multi, Poetry king dimitri, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Sensory Deprivation, and its just domestic bliss, i dare you, look after rebuilding fodlan byleth and dimitri just move to almyra to be in khalids harem, look me in the eye and tell me dimitri wouldn't love sufi music and poetry and debate, post azure moon, so soft, soft, tiana von reigan pops by for a lil bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azurite9925/pseuds/Azurite9925
Summary: "Khalid took great joy in it - spoiling them. In starting rosewater baths for Byleth after long days of training, in leaving for her the highest quality weapons that the palace had to offer, in fixing the holes in her shoes and clothes before she would even notice them. Khalid was always observant - and she was, at heart, a mercenary, and his former teacher, who fixed him with a kind smile for every bit of help.Similarly, he loved to shower Dimitri with praise after his orations, to braid threads of jasmine flowers into his long, golden hair, to adoringly feed him dates by hand as they rested together in the palace gardens. Khalid was as deft with his tongue as he was with his words - and Dimitri, sun kissed and freckled, flushed so beautifully at his displays, still painfully earnest even in the depths of his adulthood.It made Khalid hungry. "--In which Byleth and Dimitri wish to return the favor and spoil Khalid in turn.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: Devotion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848754
Comments: 2
Kudos: 111





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Very fluffy ByDimiClaude? Check. Romanticizing Mughal era India in such a way that even my Bollywood obsessed parents would find a little cringe? Check. A mild amount of Hindu maybe-blasphemy? Check. 
> 
> A warm thanks to my darling beta, Tynytyg

Though they were foreigners, they slid into Almyran court life with an admirable ease.

If it were anyone else but former Archbishop-and-War-Hero Byleth Eisner and Former-Savior-King-Of-Faergus Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Khalid knew that the courtesans would’ve _eaten them alive_. 

Khalid may have been king for nearly three decades now, but he wasn’t stupid. The coquettish giggles of the deeply perceptive ladies of the realm, the sharpened gazes of the scholars from Almyra’s best institutions of knowledge, the battle-ready stances of the warriors who fought and won their places in the court - they, they truly had the most power within the realm.

Khalid, for the most part, was a diplomat, a wartime general, and the keeper of traditions. Almyra was a country that was run by its shadows, not its kings. 

Khalid wouldn’t have it any other way.

Knowing this, and still seeing his beloved consorts mingle freely among the country’s best, not because of his protection, but because of their own worth, Khalid was filled with pride. 

He watched as Dimitri engaged in public forum poetry and debate, as Byleth learned and taught combat with the best of his generals, as they both made names for themselves as foreigners - but foreigners who were _smart_ , who were _strong_ , who were truly the pinnacle of what Fodlan could offer. Much to the Fodelander’s mutual embarrassment, they were known by the poets and philosophers as Almyra’s twin stars, who sat to the right and left of Moon King Khalid in every meeting that mattered, who guided and became one with all that Almyra was.

Khalid, privately, agreed with his court poets - but for much different reasons.

It wasn’t easy for the three of them to reach this point. After the war ended, after Khalid stuttered through his confession to both Dimitri and Byleth - _who surely,_ he thought, _did not need him for their happiness_ \- and after being so deeply, fundamentally, stunned when he learned that they did, in fact _love him_ \- after was not the end.

After was far from the end.

25 years of secret trysts after hours of diplomatic meetings, of conflicts and conflicts found in the midst of rebuilding a new dawn, of birthing and raising perfect heirs (or in Byleth’s case, training Flayn), and finally, finally - they were reunited once more. 

_“Come to Almyra with me. I need you, more than Fodlan does. Almyra will love you.”_

And as usual, Khalid was not wrong.

His country rejoiced that their king was finally to wed - and not simply to wed, but to wed perhaps the closest thing to living deities the land had to offer. They were welcomed not only with garlands of flowers and showers of rice, but incense and prayers and the fanatic energy of the people, so much kinder, so much more optimistic, than the cool shades of court life.

Khalid was loathe to separate from his lovers. He, of course, was teased mercilessly by his aging mother and closest advisors, for always being within 10 yards of at least one of his stars, but he couldn’t help it - his bones sang with the sheer knowledge that they were, finally, _his._ His eyes no longer knew what else to do but to trail their outlines. His blood knew no other pulse than that given to him by even the smallest of touches that his dear lovers bestowed upon him. He knew no other happiness than that which he found with them.

In the darkest parts of his mind, Khalid despised the idea that they had a duty to this world - believed that they should have made like Felix and runaway, after the war, world be damned. 

And yet, it wouldn’t be in the wilderness that Khalid could spoil them.

Khalid took great joy in it - spoiling them. In starting rosewater baths for Byleth after long days of training, in leaving for her the highest quality weapons that the palace had to offer, in fixing the holes in her shoes and clothes before she would even notice them. Khalid was always observant - and she was, at heart, a mercenary, and his former teacher, who fixed him with a kind smile for every bit of help. 

Similarly, he loved to shower Dimitri with praise after his orations, to braid threads of jasmine flowers into his long, golden hair, to adoringly feed him dates by hand as they rested together in the palace gardens. Khalid was as deft with his tongue as he was with his words - and Dimitri, sun kissed and freckled, flushed so beautifully at his displays, still painfully earnest even in the depths of his adulthood. 

It made Khalid _hungry_. 

And their now-customary closeness meant that he could feast upon both of them with abandon, which he did, and with absolutely no shame - many a servant knew to knock before entering any room in which there was only the king and his lovers. 

It was good, sometimes, to be king.

However, duties came first. 

This is what had Khalid, for a very long and very arduous week, away from his palace, his stars, and his personal happiness, to the clans in the mountains, so he may uphold their respect too. Local lords had their own systems and worked autonomously; it was expected, in a country with so many local languages, local cultures, and local religions. All Khalid asked from them was their allegiance in times of crisis, and taxes for infrastructure otherwise. 

He was their ruler for nearly 30 years. Usually, there were very few problems. However, it was still the case that the occasional local lord needed to be put in their place. 

His arms were still strong, toned, and ready, for both axes and bows, because of it.

It was, in the wake of winning four rounds of axe combat with the local lord and his sons, and impressing upon them the importance of actually paying their taxes, that Khalid returned, his kingly smile looking more and more plastered, his eyes growing less and less subtle as they combed through the streets, and then the throne room, for either one, or both, of his stars.

_Where...are they?_

“Is everything okay, _betah_?” A soft voice called from his left. 

Khalid turned, automatically smoothening his wrinkled features into a warm smile as his mother, Tiana Von Reigan, Dowager Empress of Almyra, stepped into the throne room, resting a gentle, pale hand upon his shoulder. Her clever sea glass eyes were surrounded by deep wrinkles born of thought, crows feet born of laughter, framed by the flowing salt-and-pepper of her raven hair. She was, perhaps, one of the oldest members of his counsel, and the one who spoke out the rarest, but Khalid knew she was still the sharpest woman on either side of Fodelan’s Locket.

Khalid rested his cheek against her hand. “Nothing, _amma_.” He murmured. 

Tiana Von Reigan, however, simply arched a brow. “Your Fodlanders have already retired for the night. I can take care of the reports, if you’d like.” 

Khalid perked up, “Really?”

Tiana snorted, “Get out, before I change my mind.” 

Not questioning his mother’s good humor, Khalid exited the throne room as fast as he could without causing a diplomatic scene, waving away the passing servants’ attempts to attend to him, making a beeline to the southeast wing of the palace, the one that faced the gardens and lake, the one where he knew, for certain, his beloveds were.

Grinning madly, he threw open the palatial bedroom doors - “ _Darlings, I’m home!_ -”

Only to be met with silence. 

Standing there, alone, in the middle of his very large, and very space chambers, Khalid felt his facial muscles lax, fall into something smaller. His shoulders slumped, and he steadfastly ignored the growing lump at the base of his neck. Running a calloused hand through his hair, he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling rather constricted in his salwar kameez. 

Quietly, he removed his rings, placing them on the bed stand, deftly untangling the braids in his hair, removing his earring, unlacing his boots - all the little things that he had done a million times before, now, in his life.

He shed his top and loosened the cotton waistband of his pants, giving himself a bit of breathing room. He glanced down at the softness coating his waist - something he still wasn’t quite used to, but found himself with in peacetime - and shook his head, moving as to land face first into his bed. Relaxing into mattress, Khalid closed his eyes and soaked in the faint traces of roses and jasmine and sword oil - and the musk of something more. 

Khalid felt his lips curl into a smile despite himself - _his beloveds were just as insatiable as he was, even after all this time._

Turning over onto his back, Khalid took the scented pillow and pressed it against his face, his chest clenching as he involuntarily thrust his hips into the air - suddenly, fundamentally, achingly, missing his darling partners.

“ _Byleth… Dima…”_ Khalid moaned into the cool night air. 

His hands snaked down the front of his chest - he rubbed the pert buds of his nipples with the pad of his thumb, closing his eyes and imagining doing it to himself while his beloveds were having their way with each other before him. Imagining sitting on the throne as Byleth sank down onto Dimitri, her head thrown back in pleasure, back arched so very temptingly. Dimitri would be flushed, so very flushed, his singular sapphire eye boring into Byleth’s body as if she was the one who hung the moon and its stars, and he’d _whimper_ ever so softly in the back of his throat with her every move like - 

Khalid groaned in want, pulling out his erection and stroking himself lazily, biting on his lower lip as the scene unfolded within his mind.

“It appears our king has been a bit impatient, don’t you think, Dima?”

Khalid’s eyes snapped to the door at that unmistakable voice -

_Byleth. Dimitri._

He huffed out a laugh, pulling himself up to sit. “Took the two of you long enough. What happened to a warm welcome?” Khalid teased.

Byleth’s smile grew slightly - something that had Khalid’s eyebrows arch up his forehead - and she didn’t respond, rather, tipping her head towards Dimitri, who set down a basket of something Khalid couldn’t see, and grabbed the ropes from the bedside table.

“Oh? Tying me up already?” He taunted, but willingly held out his wrists to Dimitri, who was, if nothing else, dead meticulous about making sure Khalid was restrained, and restrained _well_. 

Khalid tried to pepper his lovers with more questions, but neither spoke to him - and again, the lump in his throat grew, and the strain behind his smile increased. He tried, of course he tried, to lean forward and pull Dimitri into a kiss, or rest his face in Byleth’s generous endowment, as she too was now restraining him and pushing him back down against the bed, pulling off the last of his clothing in the process.

He felt his heart stutter, when Byleth pulled a gag and a blindfold from the basket Dimitri had brought into the room with them. “Are… either of you two going to tell me what’s going on?” Khalid asked, his voice small.

Byleth eyed him critically. “Color?”

Khalid licked his lips, shifting moderately on the bed. If it were anyone else…. “Green.”

Byleth nodded, and then wrapped the soft silk cloth of the blindfold around his eyes. His heart stuttered when her slender fingers pressed against his lower lip, then slipped between his lips. He tried to suck on them, just as he knew she liked it - but she pulled her fingers out quickly in retaliation, well aware of his tricks and tendencies.

Khalid longed to look up at her, see her expression, the slight dilation of her pupils - but _nothing._

“Please –“

Two fingers darted into his open mouth, forcing his lips apart and shoving the gag in. Khalid’s breath hitched, his mind going dizzy at the realization that he was _so very powerless_ now. There was nothing he could do anymore. Not now – no words, no motions, nothing even to see.

He was theirs.

Suddenly, his legs twitched at the touch of two, liquid covered fingers – thick, calloused but still moisturized, _Dimitri_ – trailing down the inside of his right thigh, resting for hardly a moment at the inside of his knee before switching to the other leg. Khalid shuddered, hyperaware of the smallest of air currents around him, cooling the liquid now decorating both his legs.

The liquid was… soft? Dried on his skin with a grainy texture, holding its shape with ease. And smelled… bitter but sandy, with just a hint of freshness, as though it was from the Earth.

_Turmeric? Kumkum? Mixed with … tulsi water?_

Khalid, being the king of Almyra, was well aware of these powders’ uses – well aware of the feeling of his mother’s fingers gently pressing them to his forehead after prayer, of his brothers in arms painting his chest with their trails of gold and red after victory, of applying it onto the foreheads of statues and the thresholds of new homes.

He wore it every day, upon his forehead. Most did in Almyra, a dot of scarlet Kumkum. A symbol, the priests told his childhood self – _Look upon it and remember, Prince Khalid, God is within you, and within them too._

_Why was –_

Khalid gasped.

Two hands, one calloused, yet preciously fine fingered – _Byleth_ – and the other, thick and steady, brushed against his sensitive nipples, covering them with turmeric, fingers then trailing across his body asynchronously,

leaving a cool trail up his neck, across his collarbones, down his chest – _down down down –_

Until they too, stopped – and Khalid _keened_.

His chest heaved, skin buzzing in the stark difference between the swirling patterns of turmeric and Kumkum and the feeling of molten lava, just under the surface of his skin. His mouth felt dry, too dry, much too dry – his lungs trembled in uncertainty, wavering between feeling as though he couldn’t breathe or was breathing _too_ much – his sternum ached, too full, as though there was a vine of ivy that wished to crawl up his neck and burst from his mouth, bearing gold fruit, love beyond mere moral expression, between the folds of its emerald leaves.

“My darling Khalid…” Byleth’s low hum washed over his drifting consciousness like a wave. She threaded her fingers through his hair, nails gently scratching the indents of his scalp, a chuckle escaping her throat when he pressed back against her hand, desperate for more.

For just a moment, her lips felt like rose petals, pressed against his forehead.

She soon moved her hands to the back of his shoulders, lifting him up from the bed long enough for Dimitri to tie the ends of a flower garland around his neck, its weight settling comfortably across the back of his shoulders, down his chest, resting just below his navel – cool, fragile, yet heavy with the weight of all that it was.

 _Ah, so that was in the basket_ , Khalid thought deliriously.

With every rise and fall of his chest, he felt the petals shift against his hypersensitive skin, gentle caresses like the cool touches of a thousand devotees. The heady floral scent overwhelmed his senses, thick and heavy, all the more risqué, for the only other place Khalid smelled such good flowers was in a temple. Yet, what drove his mind into overdrive, what realization trembled his fragile heart: the knots between each individual were tied imperfectly.

A little too tightly, too strongly, slightly clumsy, as though the weaver did not have deft fingers.

A temple maiden would be killed for presenting such imperfection to a deity.

 _Dimitri_ –

Khalid could see it in his mind’s eye – Dimitri, body forced to be small and unthreatening as he stutters a kindly request for help to the maiden girls who wove garlands of fresh flowers for their deities, every single day. Dimitri, face shrouded by his blonde hair, yet most certainly biting his lower lip as his fingers pierced the needle and thread through the heart of each individual pearl of jasmine. Dimitri, who would curse in frustration, startling the poor servant girls, but then sigh, sigh so heavily, and then turn back to the flowers in the purest of determinations, ready to tackle what would come so unnaturally to his large and blunt being.

Dimitri, who must have spent _hours_ making this for Khalid.

“I hope… I hope it’s to your liking, Khalid.” A nervous rumble rippled through the air, and Khalid nodded furiously, wishing he could control his hands, wishing he could cup Dimitri’s pale and smooth cheek, press kisses to the bridge of that broad and firm nose, tell him that Khalid, Khalid _knew_ , and that he _loved_ him.

“You look so beautiful like this. I… cannot imagine this is enough for all you have done for us but, should you let me, I would _worship_ you, my beloved.”

Khalid’s breath stuttered.

He twitched - slender fingers pressed against his entrance, sending a spark of pleasure straight to his molten core. Byleth teased the rim, the pads of her fingers dipping ever so slightly into him before pulling away, only to return a moment later, blissfully cool and slick. She pushed into him, just up until her first knuckle, and he felt his entire being shudder.

“Well, Mitya? Are you simply going to stare?” Byleth teased.

“N – no, of course not. Khalid – “ Dimitri breathed out, low and crooning as a man who has finally found water. “I missed you.”

Dimitri had laid down beside him, enveloping Khalid in the warmth of his broad body, arching his neck inwards so that his cheek may rest beside Khalid’s head. Dimitri’s breaths were deep and warm, brushing against the taught tendons of Khalid’s exposed neck, the words escaping his lips _felt_ , as much as they were heard.

“I’ve missed you so much… so much, my dearest. It is not the same, to wake up without your warmth within my arms. What is the night sky without its moon? I am lost, without you.” His words tangled themselves into the mess of Khalid’s thoughts, bleary and delirious as Byleth slowly, agonizingly, continued to push into him. 

_A thrust_.

“My love. My lord. My _king_ , you do not know how much we have wanted you – ”

_A thrust._

“We wish to worship you for the end of time, you’re so beautiful like this, for us – ”

_A second finger -_

“So good for us, such a good _husband_ , who keeps us well, makes us so happy, so, so happy – ”

 _A third -_

“I cannot wait until I can press into you, feel your heat, feel you around me – “

Khalid wanted it, wanted to be stretched, to be filled by more than just Byleth’s deft fingers, to feel the perfect blend of pleasure pain, he wanted it so bad, he bucked, begged with everything but his words, his breath growing harsher by the moment –

“Oh, sweet thing, divinity in the very flesh – “

And those fingers left him, left him clenching and desperate and frantic, hole quivering in the open air, cock hard and weeping against his chest – needy, needy, _needy –_ until he felt the weight of Dimitri’s legs straddling him, the head of his magnificent cock brushing against his hole, before _pushing –_

“You are _perfection_.”

Khalid gave a throaty cry with every thrust, the very last of his thoughts evaporating as he was fucked soundly into the bed, Dimitri’s hips slamming against his waist, each thrust hitting _just_ the right spot, again and again and again and _again_ –

And a warm mouth enveloped Khalid’s member in one fell swoop –

Khalid cried out, back arching violently against the bed as he pushed into Byleth’s mouth, grinding back down against Dimitri, his orgasm ripping through his taught and tired body, sending wave after wave of pleasure through him, until he collapsed back against the bed, muscles barely better than water.

Distantly, he registered Byleth and Dimitri untying him, taking a wet rag and cleaning his chest and legs, and settling back into bed with him.

Dimitri’s arms wrapped around his waist, pressing his back against his own, steady. Byleth wrapped herself around Khalid’s front, her hands finding her way into his hair once more, guiding his head to rest against the slender crook of her neck.

Khalid’s eyes fluttered open, staring dimly into the inky darkness of the room, his body enveloped by the heat of his twin stars. He felt their heartbeats against his skin, idly registering the slight time difference, as well as the slight differences in the pacing of their breaths. Dimitri’s fingers, never one to be idle, rubbed gentle circles into the indent of his hips, while Byleth rested her nose atop his hair, taking a deep and steadying breath.

“Thank you.” He croaked, voice rough and raw.

Khalid felt Byleth’s lips stretch into a small smile. “No, thank you, my love.”

Dimitri hummed in agreement – then inhaled sharply, to ask, “Do you remember what today is?”

“No?” Khalid sleepily murmured.

Byleth laughed, soft like bells. “Today was the day you brought us here, 5 years ago. Today was the day you gave us your home. We… wanted to say that we adore you still, and thank you, dear one.”

Khalid felt a lump grow in his throat as he blinked away the sudden burn at the corner of his eyes. “Ah - I… I love you two too. And, you know… I would do everything for you.” he said, voice quiet and soft.

Byleth smiled. “We know. But today… we wanted to give you a little devotion too.”


End file.
